


Search for the Ninth Walker, The

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Enhances original, Canon - Solves frequent reader complaint, General, War of the Ring, Writing - Well-handled PoV(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2002-09-03
Packaged: 2018-03-23 07:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3759549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Frodo could leave on his journey, Elrond had to answer the particular question: who would represent the Elves? Complete with Elvish logic, philosophy, and enlightening conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Disclaimer: The characters in JRR Tolkien’s ‘The Lord of the Rings’ do not belong to me. They are only here so that I may be rid of this plot bunny that would not leave me alone. These wonderful creations are utilized without permission and no money is being made with their usage.

Summary: After the Council, before Frodo headed South with his Fellowship, Elrond had the particular enigma of naming the Nine Walkers. Here’s some mental introspective into the Lord of Imladris as he sought the answer to the question: who would represent the Elves? Complete with Elvish logic, philosophy, and enlightening conversations. (Book-verse)

Author Notes: This is meant as an expanded version of Elrond’s thought process on choosing the Fellowship, namely, as you’ll read, Legolas. I’ve always found it interesting that he decided upon the young elf when there were many present that would have had increased experience, and seem to be a more logical choice. I mean, Glorfindel did defeat that Balrog…

Enjoy!

~*~

THE SEARCH FOR THE NINTH WALKER

by Susie

~*~

‘And I will choose your companions to go with you, as far as they will or fortune allows…The Company of the Ring shall be Nine; and the Nine Walkers shall be set against the Nine Riders that are evil…For the rest, they shall represent the other Free People of the World; Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Legolas shall be for the Elves…’ -Elrond

‘The Fellowship of the Ring’ -The Ring Goes South

~*~

Lord Elrond of Imladris sat upon his chair staring into the burning fire before him. It had been many sunsets and rises since the Council meeting had ended allowing all present the rest they required. However, the elf-lord knew he could do little of the slumbering that many beneath his roofs had the pleasure of partaking. He had much to sort through in these next precious hours when no one would think to disrupt him. Long before the Council had even started it seemed, numerous sorts of Men, Elves, and Dwarves had taken it upon themselves to speak with the Lord of Imladris personally.

He was well aware that since the rumor of the One Ring had been confirmed, deadly rumors had begun to surface. Many did not know much about the Ring other than the tales they have heard from elders regarding the Last Alliance. Most turned to Elrond to sort out the mystery surrounding the Ring, Frodo, and Sauron, either because he had been present during the Second Age or, perhaps, because he had spoke with Frodo and Mithrandir personally. Whatever the reason, numerous sorts of visitors had taken Elrond’s time seeking guidance. If that was not enough, there had been Frodo's grievous injury to contend with. It had, indeed, been a trying time for Imladris' Lord to say the least.

And now, in the early hours of nightfall the Lord of the Last Homely House was pondering the future both of the Ringbearer and all of Middle-earth. Elrond, with no small measure, would not truly mind having Galadriel and her mirror beside him. Surely she could help him with this business of the Nine Walkers, perhaps offering a small peek at what the future may hold. Anything that would help to make this decision clearer. Alas, he knew, that was a folly wish indeed, for now was not the time to be frolicking within mirrors or taking counsel with others of his race. This was his task and there was no one to share his burden. He was the one to choose the Walkers, whether he wanted to be or not. Elrond knew that the time for the Ring to leave Imladris was upon them for the Elves could no longer hide this danger among themselves. The Bearer and his companions needed to head towards Mordor within the next few days. Of course, that meant he had to inform Frodo of whom he would be walking with, which in itself posed a new dilemma since Elrond had yet to establish the exact persons to actually be Frodo's companions

The number of the Walkers came to him while he started the fire that now burned before him. Elrond thought it was watching the logs being consumed by the flames that made his thoughts turn to Mordor and Mount Doom. From there they flew like a small lark. Sauron had his Nine Ring-wraiths and so Elrond and Middle-earth would have their Nine Walkers. The Elf-lord knew a number any larger would be too easy to detect and any less would be too small to defend. The Fellowship, as he named it, would be nine. The only problem now lay within who would fill those positions.

Four came without question and for that Elrond was eternally thankful. He did not know where he would have started if these four did not seem so intent on making certain they followed the Ring. Frodo was the first Walker without question. He had been chosen by fate for this task and he would bear this burden till the bitter end. The Ring was already a part of him and to try and give it to another would prove folly and dangerous. The Halfling had already proven himself strong of heart and courage; asking more of him was almost selfish, but Elrond ascertained it would be unavoidable. This quest was Frodo’s and if he did not find a way to destroy this Ring than no one stood a chance at doing such a thing.

Then, if Frodo went, Sam would not be far behind. The Lord of Imladris knew it would save him much face if he simply told the faithful hobbit he was going with his Master, for getting Samwise to stay in Imladris, or even head home to the Shire, would be wasted energy. When it came to Frodo that Halfling could be as stubborn as a dwarf, refusing to leave his Master’s side for even a matter of moments if something could go wrong. Elrond knew that hobbit would follow Frodo to the end and even into the very fires of Mount Doom if that is where this path took them. Frodo also needed Sam. Their friendship was deep and would help more so then even Elrond dared to presume.

The third Walker that came to him unbidden was Aragorn, Isildur’s heir. The man had much at stake in the Ring and its future that, like Frodo, to not allow him to go could never be a possibility. Elrond was all too aware that the survival of Men rested with the heir to the throne, and no matter how much it grieved him to send away one so close to his heart, it needed to be done. It was now time for the son of Arathorn to face his heritage, no matter how difficult this would prove. Gondor, and all of Mankind, needed their King now in its darkest hour. The future King would join the Ring’s journey and, along the way, his own path would become clear.

And the forth was Mithrandir. The wizard had already made his choice long before Elrond had even begun to ponder the nine Walkers. The Istari held much guilt over having this burden placed upon Frodo, whether or not there was blame to be had. He would not leave the hobbit’s side as long as the Ring remained attached to the Halfling. The Lord of Imladris was not certain, but something in the air spoke to him telling that Mithrandir may find himself leaving Frodo’s side somewhere along this long path whether he sought to or not.

And so, four places were filled and yet that left five empty. Elrond was not a fool and knew that the other hobbits, Peregrin and Meriadoc, would be hard to leave out of this quest and yet he was unsure of sending them. They were both so young and innocent that, to send them on this mission, would do to destroy a part of this wonderful traits. They were dear friends of Frodo, that much had been made clear by the unsurpassable loyalty they had to the hobbit. Those two had made the choice to follow Frodo and the Ring to Imladris, maybe they would go further. It was an option, the Elf-lord mused, and he kept it on his mind.

If the hobbits then accompanied the previous quartet that left three more spots unfilled. The Half-elven knew that the Free People of Middle-earth had to be represented or else he feared a small war could erupt. Already there was much prejudice in the lands, none so obvious as that between Elves and Dwarves, and so having one race unfairly taking part in the One Ring’s journey would only serve to create further conflict between the three races. And so, one man, elf, and dwarf was need, but who would be best fitted for this mission? Elrond’s thoughts first turned to the Dwarves simply because they were the easiest choice only because of the lack of options.

Gimli, son of Glóin, would join the quest being that he and his father were the only Dwarves present who could be considered for this quest. Glóin, while a formidable force even in his old age, had past his prime as it were. His time of battling was over and now he belonged only in the caves he loved so. His son would go in his stead. Gimli was a strong warrior not lacking in courage or strength. He would bring a powerful force to the Nine Walkers with his axe and he was, in Elrond’s mind, the brute strength that was necessary. Gimli’s heart was also in the right place; his faith to restoring peace to Middle-earth would bring forth an unrelenting determination that the Dwarves were known for. Accompanying this determination would be his stubborn will, making the son of Glóin a force that would drive the Fellowship onwards.

For Men, Elrond deemed another representative was required. Aragorn was no longer on the common man’s level. It did not matter that he had yet to claim the throne. Isildur’s heir was their King, and there needed to be another to even the odds, as they were. There were many men to choose from, but one had caught the Elf-lord’s eye long before he’d started this planning of the Nine Walkers. Boromir, son of the Steward of Gondor. That man was much like his father: proud, strong, and loyal. He loved the White City with his entire being; more so than perhaps even his father. Boromir had fought for his city for many years now and it only seemed logical that he would wish to journey with the Ring to see that Gondor remained safe.

He had been called to this Council, or at least that he what he felt. The Ring almost seemed to possess a hold on this son of Gondor, pulling him towards it. And be if far from Elrond to stop that pull. The man would go even if it was somehow against the elf’s better judgment. The son of Denethor already made it known that Gondor was in good hands with his father, having the rightful heir in his company could prove a volatile mix, but Boromir would still desire to go. Perhaps, along this road, Aragorn and he would find themselves better understanding one another and finding a level ground. Boromir would go and Elrond, if need be, could curse his bad judgment later.

Finally, the last place to fill was for an elf. Unlike the Dwarves or even the Men, they were in high number in the Last Homely House. Already, Elrond could not keep count or track of the numerous Elves that had come to him asking to be of service to the Ringbearer. That was even before the Council! Afterwards, for days on end it seemed, even more had come to him, requesting that they be sent with Frodo. Tonight, though, he had luckily found shelter in his room and none dared to bother the Lord of Imladris presently. The problem with the Elves was that all of those residing and visiting Imladris currently were a fine choice. All Elves, almost as a rule, could fight and had a prowess in battle unsurpassed by few. They all wielded bows, knives, and swords as extensions of their bodies. Of course, there were those that were more gifted in fighting, but the difference was marginal to say the least. One warrior would, in truth, be no different than another.

In addition to this, they all possessed the heightened senses of their race and so, the gift of the Elves would be plentiful without regards to whom Elrond named as a Walker. So, it would not matter which elf was chosen, only that an elf would be in the company of the Fellowship. Elrond found himself almost agreeing with this point. Almost. There was something, though, telling the Lord of Imladris that not just any elf would do. He needed to think through his choice of representative just as he had the previous ones.

A knock at the door interrupted the Elf-lord’s pondering and, with a distinctively un-Elvish sigh, he rose to answer it. In truth, Elrond knew that the silence of the evening was too good to last and, in some small part of his mind, he had expected someone to visit him. Of course, the timing could not have been worse, for the Fellowship was still lacking its ninth member and that was something of a problem. Tomorrow he had to speak with Frodo about his companions and it would do the hobbit no good if the Lord of Imladris lacked the complete list of those going with the Ringbearer. The knocking, as Elrond walked to his door, did not cease, though it also did not become more insistent. Whoever was awaiting the Elf-lord’s company was in no hurry, but also would not be ignored. Reaching his door, the Half-elven opened it to reveal his visitor.

Glorfindel stood half in the hallway and half in the door jam. He offered Elrond a slight bow before speaking. "I am sorry to disturb you, my Lord, but I had something I felt you must hear." He stated gently, attempting to offer an apology for the disruption while also not letting the Lord of Imladris think that the matter was not of some importance.

Elrond stepped back and allowed Glorfindel to enter, wondering what it was his long-time friend felt pertinent to speak about. He, more than most, would be well aware of all that was on the Lord of Imladris’ mind and so, to seek out Elrond meant there was some importance in what Glorfindel would say. The blond warrior entered and then turned to face Elrond standing just inside of the room.

"I am ready to go if you so wish it," he said without pretense or explanation. Elrond arched a dark eyebrow questioning Glorfindel without a word. The other elf gently shook his head, a smile nearly appearing on the elegant face.

"I fear I do not speak plainly. Let me begin again. I am ready to go with the Ringbearer if you choose me to. I am well prepared to fight along side him and others you may pick." Glorfindel, being a trusted friend and, many times over, an advisor, knew well that Elrond was planning an entourage to go with Frodo. Of course, none knew who would be included in this Fellowship, not even the blond elf standing across from the Lord of Imladris.

Glorfindel spoke again, "It would be an honor to serve Frodo." He gave a soft bow allowing Elrond to make the judgment upon him about whether or not he was to go with the Ring. Glorfindel had thought of this moment ere he left the Council all those days ago. Since hearing about the fate that must meet the Ring, he knew he would be well prepared for such a trying trip. It was, on top of this, his duty to Imladris to go with the Ring; to the very fires in Mordor. Glorfindel knew that here in Imladris he was one of, if not, the wisest choice to follow Frodo, save for Elrond himself going. That, of course, was not a possibility and so, Glorfindel would go in his place and represent the Elves on this quest.

The Half-elven stared long at the slightly bowed form of the elf warrior before speaking. This elf before him would be the logical choice. He was, without doubt, one of the finest warriors in Middle-earth and would provide the knowledge needed for this journey. Glorfindel had lived long and seen much, making him strong and wise. He was not foolhardy or rash about anything and would bring many great skills on this quest. Glorfindel would, the Lord of Imladris knew, never leave the side of the Ringbearer as long as he had blood still flowed through him. He was loyal to a fault it seemed, and wherever or to whomever he placed this loyalty, he would remain faithful. Glorfindel also had great depths of knowledge of Middle-earth. He was a well-traveled elf that could bestow upon the Fellowship with a wealth of information at a second’s notice. And yet, Mithrandir also possessed such knowledge. The Istari could provide the Walkers with the wisdom for all the ages.

"My friend," Elrond began and his companion straightened. "I thank you for your offer, but I fear I will not take you up on it."

Glorfindel absorbed the words and then creased his brows in question. He took no offense to the Lord of Imladris’ words, but did find them a bit surprising. He began to speak in a voice slightly slowed as if attempting to have Elrond understand something that he may have missed. "But, I am one of, if not, the most qualified for this among our people. My skills-"

"-are impressive, yes," Elrond interrupted. "But, that is not all that is needed for this journey as, I am only beginning to understand."

"My Lord?" The warrior questioned not completely comprehending what his Lord was attempting to say.

The Elf-lord spoke with careful words clearly trying to sort of his own thoughts in the process of speaking. "This will be a perilous journey to say the least. There are dangers out there that none have faced." Glorfindel appeared as if he would speak, but Elrond held up a hand ceasing all talk. "I know you could argue that you have seen these evils and worse. I will not disagree with this fact. Yet, more than experience is needed. As I said, these dangers are unknown to Frodo and the other hobbits-"

At this, Glorfindel did speak and interrupt, "The other hobbits?"

Elrond nodded. "Yes, I believe they will not leave Frodo to this mission alone no matter how hard I could try to send them back to the Shire. Thus, simply telling them to go would ease the tension that is assured to arise before it starts."

Glorfindel said nothing, but the Elf-lord could tell that he was not completely in the same opinion with this decision. He would not speak out his argument, though, leaving the wisdom of Elrond alone. It was a good thing too, that Glorfindel did not speak out negatively of the hobbits journeying with Frodo for, if he had, Elrond was not certain he would have had the conviction to argue on for their journeying with the Ringbearer. He, however, knew that they should go and thus, was thankful that his companion did not seek to question this judgment.

"Please continue your explanation," The blond elf said bringing Elrond’s thoughts back to the topic at hand.

Elrond nodded. "As I said, these dangers are unknown to the Halflings and, therefore, will be frightening. They have already faced many dangers, yet with each step away from Rivendell more will come about. They need a," he pause searching for the correct word, "a beacon on this journey," he concluded.

"A beacon?" Glorfindel questioned not entirely sure what sort of ‘beacon’ Elrond was alluding to.

The Lord of Imladris took a deep breath. "A beacon," he repeated. "Think of your darkest time and what did you look for while facing it?" He questioned abruptly. His words were rushed as if he finally had found the path that his thoughts would take.

The inquiry, for not at all along the current route of their conversation, took Glorfindel by surprise and he paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. "I looked for hope." He said simply, not certain if this what his friend was seeking and, if by chance it was, even less sure what he had planned to gain by such information.

Elrond smiled, clearly satisfied with the response. "As I am certain most do who face darkness. It is in the hardest trials of our lives that we turn, not to our skills or strengths, but to something that comes from our faith. We look for hope because we find that there is truly nothing else to look for. All of our physical abilities have reached their peak and, it is while they appear to be of no more use, that we seek guidance from something other than ourselves." Elf-lord paused, staring intently at Glorfindel almost urging him with his eyes to follow his thoughts and see the destination that Elrond would reach. He continued to speak, "Hope is something that can be found in the strangest of places or, even people, at the harshest of times."

It is often said that Elves never answer questions fully, finding mirth with speaking in riddles. Never had Glorfindel ever felt like this, finding Elves to speak as plainly as Men in regards to inquiries. Until now that was. Elrond had offered him nothing and yet said much. It was, at this moment, that the elf -warrior wondered if this was how Men felt whence they approached an elf for guidance. In some small part of his brain, the blond elf made a note to cease speaking in clouded language for fear his attempts to get information across were as confusing as Elrond’s attempt currently.

And so, unclear as to what the Lord of Imladris was saying, Glorfindel decided to make his confusion known. "My Lord, I fear I do not follow your words and how they are representative of myself or of whom will go with the Ringbearer." The blond elf also knew that if he now sought an answer he would need to ask plainly in hopes of the Elf-lord doing the same.

Elrond, for his part, did not appear insulted by the lack of understanding on his friend’s behalf. "I do fear that I do not speak plainly, for my thoughts have not sorted themselves out entirely in my head. I am speaking almost as quickly as I am thinking and, as you have noticed, that can be a confusing process for both parties." He offered as way of explanation.

Glorfindel only nodded and said, "That is quite all right, my Lord."

The Elf-lord moved slightly further in room taking the moment to collect his thoughts. His eyes soon fell on the fire that he had been thinking in front of moments before Glorfindel had come to him offering to take a part in the quest to Mordor. The warmth from the flames could not be felt this far away, yet Elrond had the lingering sensation of the heat upon his skin. It was a calming feeling, even as a memory and did well to help organize the Lord of Imladris’ thoughts.

With his eyes still on the fire, he spoke again, "The Ringbearer and those that journey with him will need hope. This is no easy task by any measure and will weigh heavy on those present. The Halflings offer friendship to Frodo and one another. They even bring a little innocence to the others that are accompanying the Ring." He felt himself smile at the thought of the hobbits never-ending questions being aimed to Gimli and Aragorn. "And yet," he continued, "their innocences are the very problem for as they journey further, bit by bit they will lose this precious gift. They will become, as is unavoidable, tarnished by the evils that pursue them. Frodo, most of all, will need strength and I am certain he will find it in his faithful friends and yet, where do these friends gain their strength from?"

The question was not to be answered by Glorfindel and so he remained silent. Content to watch Elrond speak his inner thoughts out loud.

"Gimli, Boromir, and Aragorn cannot offer this strength no matter how hard they try or how much they would long to. I have no doubt that all three would take high offense to this statement, thinking that I do not believe them able to offer this help to the Halflings. This is far from the truth, Glorfindel, for I believe them more than able to bring about strength in the time of greatest need." Elrond stop speaking for a moment taking a few pacing steps.

He then began again. "Boromir is concerned for his city and people. He will think of the little ones second, I fear, and his own home first. He is not a selfish man, but neither is he a truly generous man. His goal for this journey is to see Gondor survive, not to worry about Frodo only the Ring. And then Gimli is too much of a dwarf to offer comfort. Do not think I shun the dwarves with this comment, for Glóin would find it fit to take his axe upon my knees if I did." He said with a amused chuckle, almost picturing the dwarf coming after him with his large metal axe. "I only speak thus because Dwarves are isolated folks and no little of the ways of others. Gimli will be experiencing new lands just as much as the hobbits.

"Finally, my son, Aragorn will be battling his own demons along this journey. It is not because he lacks concern for Frodo, but all too soon, I fear, his ancestry will catch up with him leaving him all but consumed. Mithrandir is the one that will bring not only the hobbits, but the others some sense of comfort. He is wise beyond comprehension, but his loyalty is with Frodo. The others, as I have expressed, will need to draw hope from another source." He paused and seemed to sigh inwardly. "And yet, I have no idea where this can come from."

Glorfindel found, all the while he listened to Elrond speak, longing to ask why these three were chosen by the Lord of Imladris, and yet he held his tongue trusting implicitly to the elf -Lord’s decision. These three, for Mithrandir was an obvious choice that Glorfindel understood, were chosen for their own reasons and the warrior knew those reasons were Elrond’s alone. What puzzled the blond elf was this inner battle that his Lord appeared to be having over attempt to bring the company a member offering hope. He truly did not see why Elrond thought he had to find someone that would be placed among the Fellowship solely as someone to bring about this strength. Furthermore, Glorfindel did not have the faintest idea where such a being could be found, if anywhere. It was as if Elrond was looking for a symbolism inside of a person; a task that appeared to be wasted energy. There was something that Elrond was looking for, and yet, Glorfindel had not the faintest idea what this could be. And, it appeared, as if the Elf-lord was just as confused as his friend.

Elrond suddenly turned to face his companion once again. "I am looking for something, my friend," he said almost echoing Glorfindel’s inner thoughts. "I do not know what is it or where I can find it, but there is something that this Fellowship will need in the dark hours."

"What of the ninth member?" Glorfindel questioned.

In an almost unnoticed gesture, the Elf-lord shrugged. "I have not been able to come forth with a ninth member and was working on a solution ere you came to my door. It is an elf, of that I am certain, but I have no guess as to whom." He turned back to the fire, almost unconscious of the movement. "You have already offered yourself to take this journey, but I fear you are not the proper choice. I do not mean to insult you, my friend, for I find you very worthy of walking with Frodo, however," he trailed off with a sigh and Glorfindel longed to prompt the Lord of Rivendell to speaking further. After a moment’s silence, where the fire’s popping was the only sound in the room, Elrond spoke. "As I have just been speaking of, these Walkers need a companion of hope. One who does not carry the burdens that the others seem to bare. You," he turned to Glorfindel with a ghost of a smile, "carry many burdens."

The warrior slightly bowed his head accepting the assessment that he knew it to be true. "I understand and do not question your judgment on my behalf. I only hope that you do well to find this mysterious elf that you are seeking for I do not know of who could serve this position." Glorfindel caught Elrond’s gaze. "All of our kind carry burdens for they are something we were born with. The sorrow of the ages past is on all shoulders and weighs heavy. And, to add even more to our already weighted load, we are a fading peoples, watching the world we have grown to love change. We are all cursed with burdens that, alas, we are unable to prevent."

Elrond nodded is head. "Yet," he started, forming an argument while he spoke, "I believe some may be less burdened then others. Or rather, not less burdened, but better able to carry the sorrows of our race better. I am searching for someone that has not allowed the grief of our time to alter them and mar their inner hope in our world."

Glorfindel said nothing but lowered his gaze in silent contemplation. The ages past, as he had said himself, weighed heavy, but the burden of the present age was far more cumbersome. The Elves were leaving and, their almost forced departure, was changing the very shape of Middle-earth it seemed. They were woven into the fabric of the lands and, while Men, for their most part, remained ignorant to the changes happening because of the loss of Elven light, Elves did not. Everywhere Glorfindel looked he could see some same change within the lands and, just like to others, this was a near heartbreaking thing to see. Although Elves had always been thought of as sorrowful beings, it was, as of late that, that description seemed to hold true. Elves, both young and old, knew their time upon this ground was fleeting away before their very eyes and they were powerless to stop it.

This transformation from Elves ruling to Men had made many angry at those that dared to take over the lands they had been apart of since the dawning of the ages. How dare mortals, who had been in Middle-earth for only a speck of time, receive such a gift while the Elves, who had never left, were now being tossed aside. Others, who chose not to feel anger, only felt sadden. It appeared as if they were no longer a necessary force on Middle-earth. Even though the beauty of Valinor was spoken of in awe, many did not want to leave and, thus, the grief of having to, had filled them. Finding an elf that still possessed hope would be much like attempting to find, as Men said, a needle in the haystack.

Still, Glorfindel knew, he would offer no help to Elrond further this evening. The search for this ninth member was the duty of Imladris’ Lord. And so, the blond elf gave a small bow before speaking.

"By your allowance, I will now part and leave you with your thoughts."

The Lord of Imladris waved a hand signally his consent. "I thank you for listening to my endless monologue and offering your own wisdom."

Glorfindel smiled. "I fear I did not offer any wisdom and, as for listening, it is I who interrupted your thoughts and musings. It was the least I could do." The warrior turned and was at the door before he spoke again; his back remained to Elrond. "I wish you the best of luck in finding this nameless elf for I feel the task will be harder than you may think. You are looking for someone who not only has faith in Middle-earth, but also in Men." Glorfindel still did not turn, but Elrond noticed his shoulders seemed to fall slightly. "And few Elves possess such faith in mortals."

With that, the elf-warrior left Elrond alone with his thoughts once again. Now, however, the Lord of Imladris was closer to despair and, frankly, thought of giving up the prospect that there was a someone out there was would satisfy his rather specific and odd qualifications to be the ninth Walker. The Lord of Imladris knew that he would not be able to settle now, though, because he had put too much thought in finding this mythical elf. His mind had already began to concoct this stranger and the Lord of Rivendell would not be able to settle with only second best.

Of course, he thought with not small amount of pessimism, what happened if, or when, he was able to find someone that suited him. Though it did little to add to his optimism of finding this last Member of the Fellowship, Elrond knew he would most likely have to pick a random elf. With a sigh, he realized he had spent far too much time indoors this evening and his thoughts needed to be entertained outside where the night air would hopefully bring forth some answers. Elrond knew that the moon had risen high in the sky and was shining a soft glow upon the lands. The outdoors was exactly what he needed presently.

The Lord of Imladris found the choice to bask in the soft light of the moon a wise one, for the moment he stepped outside he was rewarded with the soft sounds of the night that already eased his troubled mind some. Crickets and frogs made their respective chirping and croaking noises while an owl hooted a greeting from a nearby tree before taking flight on silent wings. Elrond, after standing and taking in a deep breath of the cool night air, found an empty seat beside one of the many streams that flowed inside his home. Much like the fire he had spent a good amount of time in front of earlier, the stream offered a soothing sense of rhythm that Elrond found necessary anytime he placed his mind to a task.

As he sat, Elrond thought of how his home was so blessed with beauty that, even though he had spent more years here than any present man had been alive, the wonders here never lost their awe. This one of the reasons he had felt such horror at hearing the message that the One Ring had been found and was being hunted by Sauron. To think that Imladris would fall into darkness was incomprehensible. The Last Homely House was a place of too much light. Too much joy. It would not fall, even if Elrond had to march to Mount Doom and challenge the Dark Lord himself.

Of course he knew no such thing would ever take place even if he was ready for the challenge. The Lord of Imladris had to put his faith in Frodo and those with him. It was a hard thing to do, to allow another to bear the burden of something he so longed to see down by his own hand, but it was a necessity. He had to step back and, for once, allow someone else to take the fight. These Nine, or he thought with a grimace, eight, would hold the fate of Middle-earth in their hands and there was little that others could do to help. The fate of all the races were depending on one small hobbit and his companions. This thought, unfortunately, made Elrond sigh into the night.

Nine Walkers, he had decided upon all those hours ago, and yet there were still only eight accounted for. Somewhere, during the start conversation with Glorfindel, he had made the decision that Peregrin and Meriadoc would join the others. Though Elrond was still uncertain of this decision, fearing some unknown disaster he could not put a name to, those two hobbits would go. Perhaps, something great could come from their journeying with the Fellowship. And so, the Lord of Imladris brooded, one last member to find.

The earlier discussion with his friend had done little to help Elrond for he now felt as if he was grasping at straws trying to find this ninth member. Perhaps, Glorfindel was right. There was not one elf that had not been beaten down by their time upon Middle-earth that would offer what Elrond sought. It seemed only folly to think that he could find such a being. And, as he had also mused before, any elf was just like another. One would be good as the next, he reasoned. His own son, Elrohir and Elladan, would even do on this journey. They, like Glorfindel, would be willing to go and able. Then there were the countless other Elves that had come here. Any would do. All he had to do was pick one. He could even take back his previous negative response and allow Glorfindel to go.

And yet, the Lord of Imladris found he could do none of these things. It was maddening, but also a reality. Like the other eight Walkers, Elrond felt that he had to find this last member like the others were found. There was something about each of the other Walkers that made them stand out to him. Surely, there was an elf out there that would catch his attention in much the same way. With a near groan of frustration, Elrond brought his hands to his face and gently began to massage his temples. As he did so, a soft sound on the wind pricked his ears.

The Elf-lord at first tried to ignore the soft sound, but it began to grow louder and soon he found himself listening intently trying to decipher what he was hearing. Dropping his hands from his face, the Lord of Imladris turned his head in the direction of the melody and hearkened. It was an obviously Elvish song, speaking of the trees and stars in a decidedly haunting tone. The song spoke of the ages that had come and gone and how the lands had remained under the watchful gaze of the stars. The ballad continued to articulate how the stars were like small guardians, ever present and shining. They were, as the song continued to tell, a thing of beauty that offered hope for the light of tomorrow. It was a touching song and one that Elrond found moving. It was being sung in soft Sindarin with a gentle voice that the Lord of Imladris knew he recognized. As the hymn continued, Elrond’s memory became clearer and he finally placed who the voice belonged to: Legolas Greenleaf.

 


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Frodo could leave on his journey, Elrond had to answer the particular question: who would represent the Elves? Complete with Elvish logic, philosophy, and enlightening conversation.

The young Mirkwood prince had come as a messenger for his father. This trip was no doubt a punishment, for a prince was normally above such things as a carrier to another realm even if they were the youngest as Legolas was. If Elrond had to take a guess, though he had no facts, he wagered this young prince had something to do with the escape of the creature Gollum since Thranduil made him speak of the loss of the prisoner. Although, the elf-Lord also held no doubts that the loss of the creature was not solely on the prince’s shoulders, he guessed that his father had placed the blame there, giving his son more responsibility than anyone would be able to handle. No doubt Legolas, if he was like Elrond’s own sons who tried so hard to please the Lord of Imladris, he felt much guilt over this assessment by his father and had begun to place the blame on himself also; taking this journey to Imladris as proper punishment.

Elrond knew little of Thranduil’s youngest, only having the information that his own sons had told him. Many times over the years, Aragorn, Elrohir, and Elladan, had gone on hunting and scouting missions with Mirkwood Elves. More often than not the prince was with this group. They often spoke highly of the Thranduil’s son’s skills both as a warrior and a friend. His skills with the bow were of great value and not easily matched, although Elrond had also heard this from numerous other elves, coming from his own sons, namely Elrohir and Elladan, meant something more. For them to actually admit to a younger elf being as skilled, and perhaps better, than themselves meant the prince of Mirkwood was a fine archer indeed.

And then, Aragorn often spoke of Legolas as a good friend. The Ranger and elf had met many years before through a small misunderstand that Aragorn had had with the spiders within Mirkwood's borders. Although the Lord of Imladris, to this day, had never received the full tale, he knew that Legolas had to have been a savior to his son for Aragorn to still hold him in high praise. From what he gathered from his sons, the youngest prince tended to be a quiet sort upon first meeting, but did not lack any kindness. His father was well known for his greedy behavior and quick temper, but it had been made clear to Elrond that Legolas shared none of there traits. At times, Aragorn had said, the young elf tended to be too concerned with others well being even at the risk of his own. The son of Thranduil seemed to be an easy going elf and Elladan had added, possessed a cunning sense of humor and wit that rival Elrohir’s.

It was odd, however, that even though the prince was close to his sons, he never ventured to Rivendell for a visit. Elrond wondered if this did not have something to do with his father. Thranduil and Elrond would never again be friends after the Last Alliance and it appeared like Legolas was a victim of such feelings of resentment. The fact that the prince had never been to Imladris before, but now suddenly came as a messenger, only added to Elrond’s suspicions about Thranduil’s placement of Gollum’s escape upon his youngest son.

But even under such circumstances, Elrond could not help the small smile that crossed his face as he laid eyes on the prince of Mirkwood in Rivendell while he song softly to himself beneath the light of the stars. The prince was laying on a stone bench with his eyes to the night sky. Pale blond hair fell off of the sides of his seat to touch the ground. His pale lips moved just barely although the words came out clear. Sharp gray eyes were nearly hidden beneath partially closed eyelids. The young elf‘s entire being spoke of one that was at peace with all that surrounded him. For a few more moments the song continued before ending with one long, soft note.

"I have not heard that song before." Elrond said while stepping out of the shadow of the trees.

The young prince, obviously not aware he had listener, started and instantly sat up. His head turned was a quick snap to the place where Elrond stood. Noticing it was the Lord of the realm he was in, Thranduil’s son jumped to his feet and bowed.

"I am sorry, my Lord." He said while mentally berating himself for not being more aware of his surroundings.

The elder elf smiled at the blond archer, "And why is that?" He asked simply.

Legolas looked at the Lord of Imladris for a moment and then adverted his eyes; his face gained a soft blush. "I do not know, sir."

Elrond stepped closer to the blond elf and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Come, my young prince, be at ease. I am not going to harm you," he removed his hand and took a seat on the bench where Legolas had been resting. "Havo dad, Legolas. I have a need to speak with you."

Legolas instantly sat beside the Elf-lord taking cares not to invade his space. "You wish to speak to me?" The question was said with the air of someone who was wondering what trouble they had caused. In fact, Elrond noted that it sounded remarkably like how his sons would speak when they were summoned before him when no wrong had been done. They always entered with sheepish footsteps and the Lord of Imladris knew that their minds were racing, trying to remember any wrong deed they had done. It was time like those that the he loved being a father.

However, hearing the tone in this elf’s voice wasn’t quite as satisfactory as hearing it in his own sons. Elrond knew that Legolas was ill at ease with him and only wanted to remove such discontentment.

"Have no fear, son of Thranduil, you have done no wrong. I simply wished to speak to you about the night sky."

Legolas looked at the Lord of the Last Homely House with an elegantly raised eyebrow. "The sky?" He questioned.

Elrond nodded, finding himself being drawn to this particular archer. Perhaps it was that Legolas was so much younger than any elf he had spoken to in many years; his own sons and daughter having at least two to three centuries on this prince. Or maybe he simply longed for reprieve from the constant worry of the One Ring. Whatever the reason, Elrond wanted to keep the company of this elf.

"Yes, young one, I am curious about what you see."

The blond elf smiled at the name he was granted by Elrond, it having been years since anyone had called him thus. He thought about what the Elf-lord had asked him. "I do not think you would care to know what I think, my Lord." He said while looking down to his hands. Legolas only left the confines of his room earlier to seek some peace under the night sky. He had no intentions of speaking with anyone, especially not the Lord of Imladris.

"I think I would." Elrond countered. "Now, look up to the stars and tell me what it is you see." The tone of voice was not as commanding as the words seemed to be, but the son of Thranduil still felt it necessary to comply.

And so Legolas, thoroughly rebuked in his own way, tilted his head back to gaze up at the small pinpoints of light. The stars were his constant companions through the dark nights and many times, when sadness would creep into his soul, the young prince would find a sense of peace from them. They never left him and he knew they never would.

"I always see Eärendil first, maybe it is no small wonder that my eyes are drawn to the most precious star," he began.

Elrond broke in with a question. "And what do you see when you look upon it?"

Legolas smiled even though he was not aware of the act. "I see the star, older than myself, that has guided our people for ages beyond measure. I am remained of Eärendil and all that he did so long ago. And then I think of those that must look up that star with a mortal eye and understanding. I think of all that they are not seeing; how much it has to offer or what it represents. When I look at Eärendil I see, in its light, the beauty and strength that our people possess. Its brightness outshine all and, because of that, I have always gained a sense of peace."

Elrond turned and looked at Legolas even though the prince was unaware of his gaze. "And do you still see peace in it now with all that is plaguing our earth?" The Lord of Imladris questioned with curiosity.

As if forgetting whom he was speaking to, Legolas let off a small laugh. "Of course!" He exclaimed as if thinking such a question was obscene. "Now more than ever." Legolas said while keeping his eyes on the stars, and no longer just on Eärendil. His gray eyes darted from star to star while a look of wonder, one that seemed only possible on the face of young Elves, cross over his porcelain features. "When I look and see the brilliant light of all our stars I think of all that they has observed. They have watched as Elves battled evil many times over and yet never has any of their light faded. If anything I’d like to believe that their light has grown brighter. For as long as I can remember, the stars have been a beacon in the night. Reminders that they will continue to burn for us even in our darkest times. They, I believe, have faith in us of the Eldar race. They believe that we can overcome all and still remain as we have always been, even when our times as changing so. The stars not only put this faith in us to endure, but they shine just as brightly for Men. They appear to have just as much faith in them."

"And what does that mean?" Elrond interrupted.

Legolas lowered his eyes slightly to stare at the horizon. "If these stars believe in Men, as they seem to do, why should I be any different? Why should I not believe in the mortals of this world to watch over what we have done?" The young prince paused for a moment and then opened his mouth to speak again. He, however, closed his jaw silently contemplating his words further. Finally, he spoke. "I know it is a silly notion to think of our stars as logical beings that can decide with whom they wish to place their faith in. And yet, there are so many things in this world and the next that speak of things far harder to believe. I honestly think that these stars, the ever-watchful, believe in Men enough that they will watch over them as they did the Elves." Legolas suddenly seemed to become aware of whom he was speaking to and instantly ceased.

"I am sorry. I forget my place." He admitted embarrassed.

Elrond, for his part, only smiled. "No. Please continue. I fear it has been far too long since I have heard the wise words of a young elf."

Legolas returned the smile, but a hint of a blush stained his cheeks. "I do not think I offer wisdom, only mindless prattle." He then lowered his gaze to stare at his hands rather than the stars. "I know that I am young for our race, as my words might rightly illustrate, but I am not naïve as many feel youth can be. I know what our fate one day will be. I know that our lives on Middle-earth are coming to an end and that, no matter how long or hard we try to fight, this would be unavoidable. I am also well aware of the pain and sorrow of the past ages, even though I did not lay my eyes upon such times."

Then, for the first time since he starting speaking to Lord Elrond, Legolas willingly met his eyes. "But, somehow, when I look to the stars I cannot comprehend this sorrow neither past nor present. They are things of beauty, a never fading beauty, much like the Elves. The mortals of this land have overlooked them, I fear. They are something that is so common they hold no more wonder for the Men or Dwarves. Yet, they still burn just as bright now as ever. Elves, like the stars, are being overlooked because Man has moved past our help. We hold no more wonder in this land, save by a few because mortals are releasing their own power. But, if the stars have faith enough in Men to burn for them, then the Elves can do no less. I have faith that this land will be well in Man’s hand and we, like the stars, will watch from a distance one-day. Though my heart falters when I think of leaving these shores, I do not despair over leaving Middle-earth in the hands of mortals." He paused and then smiled. "The stars will see that Man is taken care of and so is the land."

Legolas then stopped speaking and looked again to the sky. The young elf now felt very self-conscious of the Elf-lord next to him who had ceased to say anything while he spoke so freely. The son of Thranduil wondered where exactly he had insulted the Lord of Imladris and if the damage could be repaired. But, he could not get himself to form the proper words to apologize. For his part, however, Elrond was far from insulted, but rather awed at this young elf beside him. Whether or not the prince realized it yet, he had just sealed his fate.

"I fear I must be leaving," the Lord of Imladris said while hastily standing. Legolas also stood, but said nothing as the Elf-lord had already retreated back in the direction of his room without a further word. The young elf wanted nothing more than to rush after the elder elf and apologize for his loose tongue and whatever he might have said that offended the Lord enough to leave so swiftly. He knew that his opinion of Men was higher than most Elves and wondered if Elrond felt that Legolas held them too high. Yet, neither his feet nor mouth would listen to the urgings of his brain and so Legolas sat back down on the bench with a sigh.

He idly wondered what his father would think of the prospect that his son had insulted the Lord in a realm he was visiting. Knowing Thranduil though and the fact it was Elrond, he’d probably be delighted. The youngest prince knew why his father disliked the Lord of Imladris so and yet, even with this knowledge, Legolas could not bring himself to share such feelings. It was just one of the many views that the father and son seemed to disagree on and argue over. Sadly, the archer though, as of late, there were more and more things that the two could not see eye to eye on. One day, Legolas feared in the not too far future, things would come to a head and the results could be most damaging. Yet, Legolas would not worry of such things that had yet come to pass on this fair night.

He spared one last look at the stars, before he stood and made for his chambers. Tomorrow those present in Imladris would hear the fate of the Ring and Ringbearer. After that, Legolas would head home to Mirkwood and await the fate, or doom, of Middle-earth like everyone else. It truly amazed the prince that the fate of such a glorious land would all weigh on the shoulders of a hobbit. The prince knew his father would have a thing or two to say about such happenings when he told him. Namely that an elf should be the one to have the responsibly.

Oh Adar, Legolas thought, when will you realize that Elves are no longer a necessity on these shores and others are just as capable?

He knew that Thranduil would never share this outlook and would rather have Legolas himself go on the journey to destroy the Ring then allow a lowly Halfling, as he would no doubt call Frodo, to do such a task.

Well, the elf prince reasoned, I am sorry to disappoint you, but I shall not be accompanying the Ring anywhere. With a smile all his own, the young elf entered his room, shut the door, and soon found himself lost in Elvish dreams.

Elrond, unlike his young conversationalist of earlier, did not return to his room to sleep. As a matter of fact, he did not return to his own quarters at all. Instead he found himself gently rapping on Glorfindel’s door and awaiting the blond warrior. The door finally opened revealing a somewhat disheveled elf.

"Lord Elrond?" He asked without hiding the small surprise he felt at seeing the lord of Imladris outside his room in the middle of the night after they had already parted company.

"Legolas Greenleaf," Elrond said simply.

It was an odd thing indeed to have the elf -Lord in front of his chamber in the middle of evening, but to have said Elf-lord randomly naming Elves was a bit more peculiar. Glorfindel had known Elrond for more years that he could possible count and they had been through more than they cared to remember. In all those long years of turmoil and adventure, sorrow and joy, the Elven-warrior could never place a time that Elrond looked quite like he did in this moment. There was an air of barely contained excitement that was nearly palatable surrounding the Lord of Rivendell. Glorfindel was, to say the least, curious.

"My Lord, I fear I do not understand," he said carefully in response to the early proclamation of Legolas’s name. Glorfindel, as he was speaking, turned his body slightly allowing Elrond entrance into his room. The Lord of the Last Homely House, understanding the unasked invitation, entered and then turned to face his companion.

"I have found the ninth Walker to go with Frodo and the others."

Glorfindel nodded and asked, "Legolas Greenleaf?"

"Yes. I met him for the first time this evening out in the eastern garden." Elrond paused for a moment and then added, "He is the last of the Fellowship."

The Elven-warrior knew when Elrond’s mind was made up and this was one such time. He did not have the strength to attempt a contest of wills with the Elf-lord on his choice of representation for the first borns. Although, Glorfindel was hard pressed to steel his tongue. To him, Legolas was but a mere child, both in years and experience. He had hunted with Thranduil’s son a few times since he had come of age and the prince did not lack the skills for a trying journey, but he was lacking the experience.

Elrond, during the discussion earlier this evening, had made it clear that he wanted the ninth Walker to be someone that offered peace, hope and an inner strength to the Fellowship. How, the warrior wondered, could an elf that was wet behind the ears at hard battle, offer this? Glorfindel did not doubt that Legolas would rise to any occasion, but still that young elf would be seeing just as many news things on this journey as the rest of the Fellowship save Mithrandir. Surely, there had to be someone who had more experience that could offer this comfort Elrond sought. Yet, Glorfindel voiced none of these worries, choosing to keep silent his doubt at the Elrond’s choice.

Instead, he asked, "Why Legolas?" Opting not to voice the negative, but inquire what the reasons behind such a choice were. Although, he fully understood that it was because there was something that Elrond had been seeking inside this prince, Glorfindel was curious as to what these things were and what brought them about.

"It was how he looked to the stars," the Lord of Imladris answered. "He spoke of them as many of our age do not. He saw, in them, not the past or even present, but the future. Many of the older first borns view the stars as light for our past that speak of a time long ago when our race was the only race that mattered. Back when Men followed us and did not seek to overpass us. They look to them with longing to return to those such days. When Legolas looks at them he sees the future. He does not see how brightly they shone in the past, but how much brighter they’ll be in the future even after Elves leave Middle-earth. He trusts Men and does not fault them for their ways or for their future and what it does to us." Elrond paused and looked pointedly at Glorfindel. "He has hope for a better tomorrow and that, nin mellon, is what will be needed on this journey."

Rarely did Glorfindel ever feel so moved by Elrond’s words. Or, he wondered, perhaps it was not the Lord of Imladris’s words, but rather the conviction behind them. He had faith in Legolas that was the truest kind there was. Elrond believed in the youngest prince of Thranduil without any prejudices. If his Lord believed this much in Legolas’s strength then he would try to as well.

"I believe he is what they need, also."

Elrond nodded and without a word stepped past the Elven-warrior and into the hall. Dawn was now only a few hours away and a Fellowship that had only existed in the Elf-lords head had to be forged. The dawn would break and the future, and fate, of Middle-earth would be one step closer to its destiny.

It was the soft knocking that arose him from his Elven dreams. Blinking to clear his vision, Legolas stifled a sigh and rose to answer his door. He did not mind being up just as dawn was breaking, but he rather enjoyed taking his own time removing himself from his dreams. The visitor had not allowed such a thing to happen and Legolas had to dampen down his annoyance. Grabbing his soft green robe, the prince opened his door. In the hallway he saw a small servant girl staring at him.

"Yes?" He inquired almost wincing at the dry sound of his voice.

The young girl held up a parchment and handed it to the prince. "Lord Elrond told me to give this to you as soon as the dawn broke," she offered as both an explanation and apology.

Legolas took the scroll and thanked the girl. "Please see that my riders and horses are prepared to leave for Mirkwood as soon as the future of the Ringbearer has come to pass." He added before turning and heading back into his room.

The servant girl watched him leave and looked as if she would open her mouth to say something, but then quickly closed her lips. Lord Elrond had told her that she had to deliver the message to the prince of Mirkwood without delay for in it held decree that spoke of Legolas heading out with the Nine Walkers. The young girl thought it odd that the prince would ask for his horse to be ready to travel home, since he himself would not be heading that direction. But, it was not her place to question or speak out of turn and so with a curtsy, that she knew he would not see, but perhaps expected nonetheless, she left the son of Thranduil to Elrond’s news that would certainly be cause for a change in his supposed plans.

The young elf took a seat on the edge of his bed and slowly began to untie the simple red ribbon that held the parchment close. He truly did not want to open this for fear of the contents. He was certain that he had done something wrong last night when he spoke so freely in front of the Lord of Imladris. This, obviously, had to be a sort of reprimand from him and Legolas did not look forward to reading the harsh words. With a sigh, knowing that things would get no better the longer he waited, Legolas unrolled the paper and found himself reading over the elegant script of the Lord of the Last Homely House.

He read the scroll three times before his mind could even comprehend the words. With numb fingers, and an equally numb brain, the parchment fell to the floor and Legolas jumped to his feet. Not even being mindful of his dress, the son of Thranduil flew out of his door as if Sauron himself was directly behind him. It was only when the elf prince realized he was almost sprinting down the halls of the Last Homely House, that Legolas slow his running to a mere quick stride. He needed to speak to Elrond now before things got too far out of hand. While his feet tore him off towards the elf -Lord’s chamber, the young prince’s mind was wandering elsewhere, namely on the information in the scroll and on what the Lord of Imladris could possibly be thinking.

Elrond actually heard the hurried steps of an elf long before his eyes laid upon the prince. He was expecting Legolas and so was not the least surprised when his door was opened and a much panic looking young elf stood in his doorway. He offered no greeting or bow and Elrond knew that Legolas’s mind was not on pleasantries.

"Good morning, son of Thranduil." The Elf-lord said while raising a cup of tea to his lips and taking a small drink of the honey-sweet drink.

The archer stepped into the room, his eyes wide with both confusion and shock while his mouth hung just slightly open expressing even further the clear inability to comprehend the message he had received earlier. Elrond thought that Legolas suddenly looked much younger than his years. His hair that had been mused from sleep and the swift trip through Imladris’ hall, laid half down his back and half, it appeared, in his eyes. The prince wore a light green sleep robe that was open to reveal his white sleeping tunic and trousers. The Lord of Imladris was certain that once the young elf realized his attire he would be mortified, but apparently such a thought had not yet crossed the prince’s mind.

"You sent me a message," Legolas said with no small amount of disbelief coloring his voice. "A message that I think you need to reconsider."

Elrond placed his drink on the nearby table and arched an eyebrow to the young elf. "Reconsider? Are you saying I have made an error in judgment?"

The son of Thranduil stepped forward and, without being asked, took the seat that was open next to the Elf-lord.

"Yes. I am." He shook his head and then focused his gaze to the floor. "You, I fear, have made a terrible mistake." His voice lowered slightly. "I am not worthy to be among those with the Ringbearer, my Lord."

Elrond looked at the young elf with a fond smile. The archer looked utterly forlorn and lost, unable to believe that he was the one that the Lord of Rivendell had chosen to be among the Walkers. The Elf-lord reached out and gently grabbed one of Legolas's pale hands.

"I have chosen you, however, young one, and you will be with the Ringbearer."

"But," Legolas interrupted, "there are so many others that are more worthy. Glorfindel has slew a Balrog and seen more of Middle-earth than anyone, I dare say. Your own sons have fought for many long years here and have much more experience than I." He sighed as if realizing even more reasons why he should not belong to this Fellowship. "I have rarely seen life outside of the forests of my father. I have hunted, yes, but merely orcs, wargs, and spiders. I am far too young to hold such responsibility and hope of our race."

The prince looked up to Elrond’s eyes with an almost pleading expression. "You must choose another, my Lord. You simply must."

The Lord of the Last Homely House removed his hand from Legolas’s and stood. He moved away from the chairs where he had been sitting and the young elf still sat. Elrond had been expecting this reaction from Legolas and had a small idea of how to deal with it.

Standing close to the open balcony, he spoke. "Do you remember what we talked about last night?"

The question seemed to take Legolas by surprise and he did not answer right away. When he did speak his voice was somewhat hesitant. "The night sky, if I remember correctly."

"Yes," Elrond confirmed, "that is what I am speaking of. We spoke of the stars and what you thought that they represented."

"My Lord," the archer broke in, "I do not see how-"

The Lord of Imladris held up a hand silencing Legolas without a word. "Peace, my prince. Let me speak." The young elf bowed his head accepting the elf-Lord’s words and Elrond began again. "You spoke of what the stars meant to you. You said that they had faith in Elves and Men alike. How they spoke of hope for the future regardless of things of the past. You told of how, if they will watch over Men, Elves can be no different even if it means we must watch from the Gray Havens." He turned to face the elf who was still sitting. "Is that correct?"

"Yes." Legolas answered and continued, "I still do not understand how this made you believe I should go with the Ringbearer." He admitted not certain what had truly transpired last night between himself and the Lord of Rivendell. Obviously, he had said things that had some sort of effect on the elder elf. Legolas did not know what, however. He had simply answered what the elf-Lord had asked.

Elrond smiled to the prince. "I knew you wouldn’t. When you spoke of the stars I could see that you had hope in tomorrow even with the fading of our people and the danger of Mordor. You seem to possess this unwavering optimism that is rare among the Eldar these days. Many have seen too much and that has tainted them."

"Tainted?" Legolas questioned still trying to comprehend what the Lord of Imladris was saying.

"Yes. They do not have hope any more in Middle-earth. They look to the sea now as a way to find answers and to Valinor as they final place of rest. Their view of Middle-earth is that of distaste. The Men are gaining control and many feel as if they have been abandoned and, if that is true, then they cease to see why they should have faith in a brighter morrow."

The Elf-lord ord stared directly into Legolas’s sharp gray eyes. "You are young, but, as someone once said, not naïve as many feel the youth can be. I do not doubt that you fully understand the severity of this threat of the One Ring and yet, there is still hope within you. You are not only a possibility to walk with the Frodo, but a necessity." The young prince broke the contact, but Elrond continued. "You will bring hope to this Fellowship, I know. Your skills, no matter how you try to claim are unworthy, will be of greater help than you may realize. You, Legolas Greenleaf, are the ninth Walker." The Lord of Imladris smiled. "And that, young prince, is an order."

Legolas looked up with a smile of his own. "Yes, my Lord." He paused for a moment and then added, "I thank you for your belief in myself and your decision no matter how much fault I find in it. I will try not to disappoint you or our people."

Elrond nodded. "I do not think you will. I will not lie and say this journey will be easy, but I have faith in you and your company."

Legolas said nothing, but slowly lowered his eyes to his feet. And then the young elf suddenly stood and looked down to his outfit. A small sound of dismay escaped from his lips before he could quell the noise. "Forgive my dress. I did not think to properly ready myself before I came here."

The Lord of Imaldris only shook his head. "It is quite all right. Why don’t you go back to your chambers and dress.

I am going to inform the other Walkers and will hold a small Council within the hour. I fear that after this is announced you will find little time for yourself."

Legolas nodded and gave Elrond a small bowed before quickly turning to exit the room.

"Oh, Legolas." Elrond called and the young elf turned.

"Yes?"

"I will send word to your father. You, no doubt, have more things to worry about than making certain Thranduil understands what you are doing."

The prince smiled. "Thank you," he simply said before turning and leaving.

The Elf-lord watched the form retreat and then turned to look at the morning sun. It shone brightly against the landscape and with the soft light, it gave Imaldris the majestic beauty that was spoken of in wonder. A swift breeze blew from the east catching a few loose leaves. One leaf blew into the window and landed at the feet of the Lord of Imladris. Bending down and picking up the small gift of nature, he held it in his pale hand. The leaf, bright green in color, sat in his palm and Elrond smiled down at it. Such a small thing, he mused, and yet-

He walked to the window and felt another breeze stirring. Holding up his hand he allowed the wind to catch the leaf and, once again, it took off in the breeze to lands unknown.

-and yet, such potential.

 

 


End file.
